


Wild is the Wind

by Silberias



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Because of Reasons, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is not shining nor a knight, but he does come to save the princess. </p><p>Oberyn/Sansa tale divided into 300-or so word bits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For all the rest of my Oberyn/Sansa crew.

Oberyn had chosen, for his dear Ellaria's sake, the better part of valor after the poisoning of the King. He was lucky enough to have not been suspected of the poisoning, he need not throw his dice with the Gods a second time. The Imp had convinced, somehow, the Kingslayer to fight on his behalf--not knowing that the Crown's combatant would be Ser Gregor Clegane. The Kingslayer had put up a good fight, but he had been cleaved in two in the end. The Imp had screamed, weeping openly over his brother's mutilated corpse, and been executed some days later.

His wife, young Sansa Stark, was released. The Imp had scorned, in agreeance with many of the witnesses, the idea that the lady had in any way conspired against the King. She had ever been dutiful since her father's death, though many including her then-husband thought her a bit dull. It had been decided by the court that she was not of a wicked enough nor cunning enough mind to have carried out the attack on her beloved king.

Oberyn had felt compelled by her face though, a face that had caused the Realm to rip itself apart. She walked about the Red Keep in the weeks after her husband's execution, her dresses still poorly fitted--handed down from the former Queen Regent's period of mourning her own husband Robert. Her courtesy was a physical thing when he saw her, and her curtsies to him were nearly as low as those she gave to King Tommen or Queen Margaery. She never failed to address him as a Prince of Dorne, no matter the circumstance of their meeting.

It was not long before he went to the King and his keepers.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lady Lannister is in mourning, surely you understand--" Grand Maester Pycelle warbled through his scraggly mustache. Oberyn lounged back in his chair, utterly collected this morning. He'd even gone to bed at an early hour and hadn't fooled about with Ellaria this morning either.

"And she deserves someone to comfort her, and someone who will provide the distractions of family. She is a lady, born and bred to be a wife and mother. In addition," he turned his head down just a bit in deprecation to the boy king, "His Grace's own dear sister Princess Myrcella would no doubt appreciate a familiar face among her new friends in Dorne."

The King hesitated and Oberyn held his mild expression as the boy surveyed him.

"My gooddaughter may yet carry her traitorous husband's child," Lord Tywin intoned, staring his grandson down, "the King's own cousin, and heir to Casterly Rock." Oberyn acquiesced the point, waiting a beat before striking against Lord Tywin.

"I heard rumor that the girl and her late husband did not have a bedding. Has she been inspected by a septa, or the Grand Maester? Perhaps the same septa who made certain that Queen Margaery remained a maid before her marriage to King Joffrey?"

Lord Tywin turned his eerie fish eyes, green like putrid flesh, on Oberyn and he felt the rage his questions attracted. Lord Tywin's man, the Grand Maester, was a bit better at playing along with Oberyn's game than the Hand of the King was. Said King was looking hesitant, enough options present that his young mind questioned the decision he was about to make on behalf of his 'aunt.' Lord Tywin's words then were meant to eliminate that hesitation:

"She has not been inspected but he would have done his--"

"But my uncle was a traitor to the Realm, my lord Hand. He killed my brother, and sent my sister away," King Tommen's voice wasn't yet broken by his age, instead it was high and clear in the council chamber, "you can hardly expect that he did his duty of all things to his wife."

"The King is correct, my lord Hand. Though of course her family are all quite able to produce children," Lord Varys now said, "Her brother got a child on his late wife within a pair of months, her mother bore a son from a single night in her husband's bed."

It was a bet then. Little Lord Tyrion had been dutiful and good to his wife, on the outer appearance, and he may well have asserted his rights over her. But something about the little lion's tenacious desire to be good despite those hurt along the way--something about all that made him hope that Lady Sansa remained a maid. Unmolested, a virgin with an empty womb.


	3. Chapter 3

He took a walk to ease his conscience that afternoon, knowing that Lady Sansa was likely being asked to lift up her skirts so an old woman could poke and prod her. He took some time to pray, pray that his hasty bribe to Lord Tyrell--sand steeds for the man's whole family, as well as allowing his own horse to be put out to stud some of Lord Mace's own mares--would be enough. The septa had been with the Tyrell family since she herself was a girl and was as loyal to them as Grand Maester Pycelle was loyal to the Lannisters. She would, if his bribe worked, find Lady Sansa a virgin even if she had to work around the blood of birth.

Oberyn wondered if Lord Tywin would allow him time to court Lady Sansa or if the man would demand a wedding straight away--probably the latter. It was not as though the Lord of Lannister was a patient man, willing to spare the feelings and pain of women. As he walked, he promised himself he would not become her torment. Whatever that took on his part, she would be allowed her own space and time. Lady Sansa would be safe as his wife, allowed to grow and recover as she chose to.

After much wandering through the palace grounds a servant in Lannister colors tracked him down telling him that the King had news for him. Oberyn graciously nodded, making his way up to the Small Council's chamber once more. Inside he was steered next to Lady Sansa who stood still as a statue in her mourning blacks, tears running silently down her cheeks and dripping from her chin.

"Prince Oberyn, do you still wish for the lady's hand?" King Tommen asked, trying to muster confidence as he led the adults in the room through the very muddy political waters.

"I do," he replied, daring to take Lady Sansa's hand and kiss at her knuckles.

"Then it is decided. I trust you will not fail in your duty to her as her dead husband did?" Lord Tywin's tone was as bitter as the twist of his mouth. "The High Septon will marry you on Smithsday this week at noon."


	4. Chapter 4

He paid court, such as he was able, to his betrothed in the days leading up to their wedding. She had been well shocked by his frank conversation, especially when he had stolen her away to a more private part of the castle, high up in a tower where no one could eavesdrop on them. Ellaria had insisted he educate Lady Sansa, she had been through enough terrors and lies to last many lifetimes.

"I must apologize my lady," he began once they were alone, "it was I who suggested they examine your virtue. Lord Tywin was loath to give you up and I forced the issue."

Lady Sansa was as tall as him, an anomaly compared to many women from north of the mountains. The Westerosi liked their women short and diminutive, and disliked how tall the women from Dorne grew. This young woman probably wasn't done growing, either, and for a moment the father in him was proud of her beauty and strength. Rhaenys might have looked like this Sansa Stark someday, had she survived the sack of the city. But Sansa Stark was not his daughter, and his heart ached for a moment for her.

"It was not so bad, truly, my prince," she replied, her shoulders relaxed and her hands folded prettily at her waist. Oberyn remembered her tears though and did not let himself be fooled.

"I will not insist otherwise and embarrass you," he said, taking a fold of parchment from his pocket and spreading it out over the railing of the balcony they stood on. Earlier in the morning he had drawn a woman's sex, labelling everything in both the courtly terms as well as the commoner's words. Lady Sansa glanced sparingly at it before blushing bright red and looking out into the distance at the ships in the harbor. She did listen to him though, as he explained the workings of her body, and took the parchment with her when they parted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely reviews--if you haven't, check out TheSweetestThing's new one-shot as well as the perfect and wonderful story she has called Clinging to the Wild Things that Raised Us. Yes. Those. *flees*


	5. Chapter 5

Two days before their wedding Oberyn managed to get Lady Sansa out of the keep and down into the markets. She needed a dress for her wedding, one that fit her, and measurements needed to be taken for more. Ellaria came with them, taking her time shopping among the various stalls with Daemon. They and their retinue of guards visited several tailors and dressmakers before finding one that would make a Northron wedding dress. All the others feared the wrath of the Lannisters too much to even consider taking Dornish gold on behalf of a Northron girl.

"I will wear gray and white," she said softly to him when she left the shop, taking his arm hesitantly as they made their way to a jeweler. Oberyn smiled and made no comment either way. He did not want her thinking to always please him, so he did not say it pleased him.

In the late afternoon, the sunlight streaming lazy through the arched palace windows, he sat with her on the windowseat of Queen Margaery's solar. The Queen and her ladies and her septa were huddled away further in the room, embroidering and giggling and paying no mind to Oberyn or Lady Sansa. He took the opportunity because he knew he was not likely to get another before the wedding.

"My lady I am going to speak impertinently to you," he said softly, moving to sit so close their thighs brushed. "Have you ever had to clench yourself to keep from wetting yourself?" She stared at him for a few moments, her mouth open in shock, but Oberyn remained quiet after his question, forcing her to answer--and finally she nodded, just once.

"Because I defied Lord Tywin they will expect us to have a bedding, and someone will probably witness it to ensure we do our duty," her lower lip trembled just a moment before she firmed her mouth against it, "So all through the feast after the wedding, or all morning even, I need you to clench and unclench yourself that way. I do not want to hurt you, and this may save you a little pain."

They would whisper and call him a childfucker in Dorne for wedding her but it was a moniker he was willing to take on to get her out in safety. Oberyn was quite sure that Arianne would take to her, another stray to add to her retinue of acquaintances and friends.


	6. Chapter 6

Her gown was white and a light silvery gray--her maidencloak a darker, steely gray fastened with a butterfly pin. Sitting on his horse as they rode through the streets she held the cloak over her lap against the chill of the air. Ahead of them rode the King and his advisors and kingsguard, behind rode some of the dornish lords who had come with him.

There was no celebration save a small feast that was filled with gawking courtiers and Lannister guards all around. Sansa seemed to handle it all better than he, smiling when it was required of her, her manners impenetrable at the half-compliments given to her. Dancing with her later, before the guests began chanting for the bedding, Oberyn was able to talk with her quietly. Sansa was smart and she spoke in courtly codes and he only caught on when she spoke of the disappearance of her sister and the death of his own by telling him one of the saddest songs she knew was of Queen Rhaenys' campaign in Dorne.

She was twirling around the floor in the arms of Lord Gargalen when the guests began chanting for a bedding. Oberyn was barely able to give signal that his bannermen ought to swoop her up before the men, many of them in Lannister colors, descended on her. Oberyn let himself be taken out to the hallway but fought off the women who sought to undress him and waited for his men to bring Sansa out to him. She was skittish and frightened, clutching her ruined dress together as Daemon put her in Oberyn's arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Oberyn wasn't surprised to see Lord Tywin as well as Lord Mace open the door to the bedchamber for them. Sansa shivered in his arms, her wedding dress half stripped from her body before Daemon had scooped her up and taken her away from the rowdy guests the Lannisters had invited for them. A handmaiden glared at Oberyn for a split second before taking her lady behind a screen and changing her into a sleeping shift. Oberyn on the otherhand did not seek refuge from the eyes of the other lords as he quickly unbuttoned and untied his clothing, until he was in nothing but a tunic that reached just far down enough for a bit of decency.

Ellaria had made him wear it, knowing he would much rather shock whoever came to observe his wedding night with his nakedness but that such a provocation wasn't in the best interests of Lady Sansa.

"She will have need of you," he said to the handmaiden, gesturing that she ought to wait behind the screen for the time being. His little wife shook like a leaf as she climbed into bed and Oberyn cursed the men of Westeros and their customs not for the first time in his life. That he would have to hurt her to free her.

"Will the Lord Hand and the Master of Ships require seeing her entered or just the sight of her blood?" His words had twin trails of tears making their way down Sansa's cheeks, and Lord Mace was almost about to say he only needed to see her blood when Lord Tywin declared that Lady Martell would have to be properly seeded before the Crown would consider them wedded and bedded.

"May we keep our blanket until the deed is done?" He counseled himself to be grateful for the curt nod he got for his efforts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as tiny as this next bit is it was pretty difficult to write. I scrapped it a few times, but here we go.

She cried afterwards, huge sobs shaking her entire body and she was hardly sensible to those around her. Her handmaiden had been sent away after drawing a hot bath, and he played at handmaiden for his new wife. At least it was private. After Lord Tywin had gotten the eyeful he required he had left Oberyn with the aftermath of the consummation. In Dorne he would be tried for rape, but here in King's Landing he was just another man in possession of a wife.

"Thank you," Sansa said, once her weeping was done as the night settled down around them. Oberyn resisted scoffing, only continued combing her damp hair as he spoke.

"I did nothing worth thanking me over. I have instigated and perpetrated your abuse--"

"But now you can send me away, to Dorne," she interrupted, "you could even give up your seat on the Small Council and leave here. Only please don't die and leave me here alone," she finished, her words hopeful through the rasping of her tear-jerked voice. Oberyn looked into her face for a long moment after that, studying her features and thinking on her past.

Sansa had lost her parents, her siblings, and even a sad excuse for a husband while being kept here by Lord Tywin and his evil brood of children and grandchildren. Oberyn would not join them.

"I will do as you ask, my lady," he replied, risking a kiss pressed to her forehead, "only you must accept and allow the laws of Dorne to hold sway over us." The glance she gave him was confused but she nodded her acceptance nonetheless. Sansa curled up into a ball then in the cooling bathwater, and he left her to it. Oberyn stood and wrapped his robe around himself before going to seek out some additional men at arms and recall a few of his children from their various escapades around the city.

They would look after his new wife until such time as he could send her down to Dorne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this little snippet and this little story--let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

They were required to appear before court the next morning and Oberyn was sure that at his side was the most accomplished lady he had ever met, for the leering smiles the courtiers gave them as they were congratulated by King Tommen were ones he suffered under badly. He could see his men felt similarly, more scowls than smiles tugging their lips. But Sansa was an aloof breeze. Her sobbing of the night before utterly concealed as though it had never happened.

He would most definitely have to give up his seat on the Small Council, for his little wife's act must be exhausting. Oberyn felt it in the way that she leaned on him when they took a walk through the palace to the balcony he'd cornered her on just days ago, speaking words that were vulgar here north of the mountains.

"Does it ever get cold in Dorne?" she asked when he spoke of writing to his brother for a replacement, and taking her back with him to his homeland.

"For us it does," he chuckled, "it is still warmer there than it is here now, and you may find it uncomfortable."

"Nothing can be uncomfortable as long as it is not here."

A dangerous point of view to have when so many men knew that his little wife was the last Stark of the North--even their cadet house, the Karstarks, had been obliterated by her brother's war. Oberyn shuddered inside at the thought of what sort of man might have rescued Sansa. With him she would go to Dorne, she would be put into contact with whatever Stark loyalists remained, she would be given her life back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy this little chapter!

Sansa was utterly sweet to everyone in the household he'd brought with him here to King's Landing. The only discord was when she tried to absent herself from the running of it in favor of Ellaria, and his paramour wouldn't have it. Ellaria had sent his wife on to him with the disagreement and she had come, hesitant and afraid as she stepped towards him. He let her explain her own worries before speaking at all. Oberyn didn't touch her, he never did unless she reached for him first.

"She wishes you would feel welcome, that you would feel...trusted with our affairs. That you aren't a burden or otherwise unwanted," he said, the tiniest smile lighting his features. Sansa's red hair, done up in a loose Dornish style this afternoon, shone brightly in the sunlight. Strands of copper and a few of strawberry blonde even--Oberyn knew many men loved her Tully hair, all of her looks were those of a distinguished southron lady but her manners were cultivated into a weapon. The only defense left to her after the deaths of her family members.

"I...I don't want to..." she trailed off, not meeting his eyes. Oberyn stayed silent, respecting her enough to let her construct what she wanted to say.

"You were in love," she said helplessly, "it must hurt her every day to--" tears fell from her eyes as she broke off and Oberyn hushed her gently.

"I am as in love with Ellaria as I ever was, you do not hurt her or me by being here or by being my wife. Rather, we worry that we hurt you--being together as we are, that we make you feel useless. That's why she wants to cede the household to you. So you have soemthing that is yours."

This took Sansa aback and he gave her a smile and stood up to pour out some wine for both of them. As he handed hers over their fingers brushed the tiniest amount.

"We are going back to Dorne soon, I have recommended my nephew Quentyn as my replacement on the Small Council. A young king needs young advisors as well as old ones, and now we only await my brother's approval."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a chance, go read the newest chapter from TheSweetestThing's Clinging to the Wild Things That Raised Us--it is probably one of my favorite fics that I have ever read, and I hope that you have a second to leave a review if you do go & read it!
> 
> That said, let me know what you thought of this chapter! Thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

As they prepared to leave, Oberyn worried that Sansa would fall pregnant. Of all her worries and suffering he did not want to add to them the choice of whether or not to keep a child of a stranger. Already he had confessed to bedding an unwilling wife by a raven home to Sunspear. Doran would mete out the usual punishment--thirty lashes before the Sept of Fhosserio, a confiscation of half his personal coffers, and a separate living and household created for his wife for the period of at least two years. Perhaps he might even be given something harsher, to be made an example of for the people of Dorne, and in honesty Oberyn welcomed it.

When her courses came he was relieved, though he realized that a child was perhaps something his little wife still longed for. She had a sad smile for him when she told him of her bleeding, and Oberyn pressed a kiss to her lips, threading his fingers through her hair and then resting his forehead against hers. Someday she would have children of her own, either by him or another, and perhaps even return to her home far in the North.

Oberyn only told her his probable punishment when they were just hours away from docking in Sunspear, so she would not be alarmed if Doran chose to have him formally arrested. The gods certainly knew she had seen enough of her people arrested suddenly, it would be cruel to surprise her thusly.

"Is this what you meant? That we must abide by Dornish laws?" she asked as they stood on the railing of the ship as it entered the bay.

"Yes. Doran will give you the choice of overseeing things at his side, and I will not blame you if you choose to stay away." She slipped one arm around his and rested her head on his upper arm, holding him tightly.

"I was willing," she murmured, "I had faith you would take me away from that place and you have. It would dishonor both of us should I stay away." Oberyn extracted his arm from her grasp and put it securely around her shoulders, deciding it was not the time to explain the intricacies of how his people viewed their union. That she took her freedom with open eyes was enough for him.


	12. Chapter 12

It was only distantly that he heard, some weeks later, people yelling and a scuffle breaking out at the base of the small scaffold he was tied to. He was probably two dozen lashes into his punishment, but in honesty he had lost count a short while ago. Oberyn looked to where Doran sat, tried to make out through the sweat pouring into his eyes if Sansa stood next to him still. It was probably too disturbing for her to watch, and Oberyn didn't blame her--only took a deep breath as he waited for the next crack of the whip with his eyes closed.

"My lady--no, my lady--!"

His muscles had all clenched in anticipation of the whip, but when he heard the crack he felt nothing--but a woman's scream and him trying to turn around and look over his shoulder. Oberyn strained, but he ultimately wasn't able to. His wounds burned only a moment later when they were suddenly pressed on and covered, thin arms wrapping around his waist, and a soft cheek rested between his shoulder blades.

"Lady Sansa, please return to--" his brother's tone was soft and beseeching. Sansa's arms tightened around Oberyn, her small fingers winding tightly into her sleeves to anchor herself better.

"My husband swore to protect me, to free me from the court. He is the only one who cared," she sobbed, and Oberyn was thankful his back was too much on fire to feel if her tears burned in his wounds, "I am his wedded and bedded wife. They made us, they wouldn't--I wanted to leave. I wanted anything that would let me leave."

The crowd, previously jeering, stood deadly silent as she cried. Her sobs echoed in the courtyard, but she didn't let him go. It was oddly comforting.

"Cut him down, please, he didn't mean to, they made him," she was saying, crying, and Oberyn marveled that he was someone she was willing to shine her kindness and bravery on. He certainly didn't feel he'd earned it. Eventually his brother gave in to her demands and Sansa herself helped support him on his way to the maester, sitting with him while he recovered over the next several weeks.

The rest of his assigned punishment she abided by, and they saw each other only occasionally at court for the next several years. Sansa formally accepted him into her household--for as the heir to House Stark she outranked him greatly in Dornish eyes--when she turned twenty, but had been sleeping in his bedchamber for well over a year by then.

When she bore him a daughter, a good time later, and he first held the child Oberyn knew tears were ready to fall from his eyes. A head fuzzy with red hair along with the beginnings of a widow's peak, and dark brown eyes peered up at him curiously--a girl who would grow up as lovely and with the same strength as her mother.

"May I name her Arya?" Sansa's tone was kind but firm--if he'd even wished to be crosswise to her she would fight him on this. Luckily theirs was not such a volatile match.

"Arya Nymeros Martell--a good name for such a girl," he readily agreed, leaning over to kiss Sansa's cheek and rest his forehead against hers briefly afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story! Let me know what you thought :D


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